Missed Opportunities
by Veinne
Summary: In which glass is shattered and tombstones cracked, opportunities missed, words left unfortunately unsaid, and actions are made in vain. It's funny, how many people Artemis Fowl II managed to affect in his short human life.


**Was in an Artemis Fowl mood! Also, this is kind of depressing. Apologies.**

**Disclaimer: I do not claim to be Eoin Colfer, and I certainly do not claim to own the AF series.**

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><p>Foaly was in the Operations Booth again. After all the adventures he'd had with his friends in this room (and some enemies, like a certain stinky dwarf), he'd never thought he would be here just <em>organising files<em>, of all mundane tasks. He had to keep his mind busy, he reminded himself. Busy actions keep the dangerous thoughts away.

As he was mindlessly sticking a few criminal files for some goblin thieves into a nearby shelf, his fingertips brushed against a foreign, rough texture behind a handbook about LEP uniform. His fingers closed around it instinctively with curiousity, and he pulled it out slowly.

As it came free, his eyes darted across the old file, and countless memories flashed past his eyes. He recognised this file, he knew what disk lay inside, untouched for three years. Tears sprung up against his will, and he wiped them with a frenzied fervour.

"Still manage to haunt us even after you're dead, eh, Artemis?" he whispered bitterly to himself, clutching the file with trembling hands. To open, or not to open? He'd watched that disk countless times, hungrily devouring each look he could get at the last recording of Artemis Fowl the Second, before he'd glued the opening of the file altogether so as to prevent himself from going insane.

He slowly ripped open the seam now, having made his decision long ago. This one time, he told himself, willing himself not to break down. This one time, today, at this moment when he could not longer take the Mud Boy's absence in stride. He missed his snarky comments. He missed trying to stop all the hacks pulled on his systems. He missed the human he'd slowly come to grudgingly respect and reluctantly befriend.

He hungered for _anything_ that would convince him that their adventures had been more than just a dream, a fleeting look into the exhilaration of the chase that will always be nothing but fleeting. He took out the thin disk inside and slipped it into one of the players in the booth silently.

As soon as the disk started playing, he couldn't help crying again. Artemis's face was like it always had been, pale and pasty, his hair dark and ruffled, unlike in his youth in which it had been slicked back with gel unappealingly. Foaly willed himself to keep it together. The sight of his old friend unnerved him like it always had. He'd never thought he could miss a human so much.

Words flew past, unheard by his ears. He already knew everything said in this two-hour talk, he'd memorised them after his death after watching it a hundred and sixty-seven times. Instead, he watched every move Artemis made, his lips quirking upwards as he spoke of something particularly amusing to him, or frowning slightly as he recounted something he regretted.

Foaly almost felt like reaching out to brush his fingers against the screen in the Operations Booth. All he could see was Artemis, bleeding profusely from a poison that fairies could neither heal nor remove. Artemis, using the last of his breath to keep them alive, whispering instructions haltingly and trying to point out the exit route.

A sacrifice, in return for a few lives. His friends' lives. Ever since they'd been captured by the notorious criminal they'd been chasing, he'd seen a glint in Artemis's eyes. He was planning something. Foaly had been confident in his abilities, no matter how utterly inescapable the circumstances had been. Artemis Fowl always prevailed, no matter how improbable.

He'd managed to explain most of his plan to them, of course. It'd sounded plausible, but Foaly had a nagging suspicion that there was a loophole somewhere. Foaly's gut had been right, but Artemis Fowl had been several steps ahead as usual. The criminal would be killed, his friends saved and the explosive technology destroyed, but there was a detail he'd left out in his plan. In order to save his friends... Artemis Fowl II would die.

Perhaps, in an alternate universe wherein the countdown clock had been set for three hours instead of one, he would've had supple time to plan his escape from death, but time was too short. Time was always too short for humans, Foaly thought bitterly. Artemis took the leap, saved his friends. He died in a bloody mess that was too painful to be deserved by a human that had saved so many.

Holly had been by his side, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling as she clutched his hand in hers, their difference in size almost amusing in a different time. Foaly and Mulch had been forced to drag her out, holding in their tears as they tried to wrench her screaming self from his still form.

Foaly had always known Artemis Fowl the Second would die way ahead of any of their times, but he'd never even stopped to consider that he would die so awfully young. He was barely twenty-seven (well, thirty, but biologically he was twenty-seven), in what Foaly would call the very prime of his youth. He was still scrawny, and he could still barely lift a weight, but he'd grown from a broken juvenile mastermind into a snarky genius that cared more about the world than anyone else Foaly had ever met.

Don't get him wrong, Artemis Fowl was still a bloody pain in the neck. But he'd been an endearingly annoying pain in the neck.

Above his head, the tape played on a repeated loop, Artemis's two-hour explanation stretched into an endless abyss of words, comforting white noise that soothed Foaly a little. He would always be haunted by his nightmares, the decisions he'd made and their outcomes. The worst part of making a decision is never truly knowing if they'd been right or wrong.

If he'd been just a little smarter, could he have avoided a friend's tragic death? Could he have figured out Artemis's plan and stopped him from dying? And even if he had, would he? Would he have sacrificed himself for Artemis's sake? Questions, never-ending questions. Foaly was plagued in his nightmares by questions without answers.

Holly, Holly, Holly, his mind screamed, trying to contain his nerves. This tape in his possession, it was meant for Holly, but could he bear to show it to her? This tape did nothing but scream countless lost opportunities, words left unsaid and actions made in vain. It would hurt Holly even more than Artemis's death had, Foaly had said. Better not to hand it to her.

His brain waged war with itself, his conscience torn between two decisions. He felt mildly schizophrenic, digging his nails into his forearms as though to keep him inside the torn reality here in Haven, in his mind. Right, or wrong? Right, or wrong? Questions, so many questions, but never answers.

To give Holly what was rightfully hers and risk having her completely break down, or not? Right, or wrong? Ahead, the video had reached the point that had always sent Foaly into frustrated tears. His mind screamed, torn between reality and illusion. Words, so many words. Why did Artemis Fowl always have so many words to say, even after he was dead?

_"I love you, Holly Short."_

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><p>Private Chix Verbil was in a bar. It was a rare treat, to be above the ground after having his wings punctured and rendered useless. This was one of the secret hideouts of the fairy people above ground, and they served very nice drinks, as Chix was told. He'd came here with his vacation time. His life was mostly consumed by his job, but he'd convinced himself that perhaps a short vacation would perhaps finally win him a girl.<p>

It appeared that this had been a hopeless dream. Chix looked around in disgust at the drunk fairies stumbling around, and vaguely saw a dwarf trying to feel up a chair leg in his peripheral vision. He grimaced, and was about to turn back to the chutes when he caught sight of a familiar head of short auburn hair.

Captain Holly Short's crew cut had been grown out down to her ears, but she looked pretty much the same to Chix, rough brown skin and all, donning some casual clothing contrasting to the LEP uniform. Even so, Chix was not particularly interested in this at the moment, as she also appeared to be staggeringly drunk.

"Holly!" Chix shouted indignantly, marching over and pulling Holly out of the bar. "You are the last person I'd expect to see in a bar. You shouldn't be drinking on duty, and you've always been so against alcohol, after all."

"Not on duty today," she slurred, putting an arm around his shoulder to steady herself. "Always take a vacation on this day, just to come up and visit around a little, you know."

This would've been Chix's opportune moment to suavely wag his eyebrows and talk about the coincidences that they took a vacation at the same time, but his curiosity empowered everything else. After all, Chix had more honour than to take advantage of a drunk elf, and he was more than a little disturbed at the look of the captain he'd always admired so awfully _broken_.

"Why today?" he asked softly, steading her with a hand.

"It's the day Artemis died, three years ago," she mumbled, looking down at her feet with interest. Chix's heart nearly broke for his friend. Captain Holly Short of the LEP that he knew was brave, spunky, and she most certainly did not choose _alcohol_ of all things to cope with a friend's death.

He knew, of course, about Artemis Fowl's death. It'd been all over the Haven papers. _Haven is saved once again- Fowl dead but fairies alive and well. _Fairies, it appeared, were quite interested in the life of the Mud Boy that'd been having adventures with the crew of LEP since twelve.

"Were you two, uh-?" he paused, not knowing what to say. What were they? Friends? Something more, perhaps? The rumours circulating in Haven at that time that have since died down were bordering on scandalous. Chix winced a little at his own tactlessness. Maybe this was why female sprites never seemed attracted to him.

"No," she said, looking away. She laughed bitterly, void of all joy. This action caused Chix more grief for his friend than if she'd broken down sobbing. "Danced around the topic for years, though. We felt too much to avoid the topic, yet too awkward and afraid of rejection to outright confess. Thought we had plenty of time. Never really knew how he felt," she shrugged.

"I knew what it would've meant, of course," she continued, her tears splattering onto the dirty bar floor. Chix didn't know what to say. "He would die way before I did. Life's not some blasted fairytale, it would've ended badly and I knew it. I just didn't care. I loved him, you know. He was my best friend, in a way. Never thought that it would've spiralled into that from grudging respect."

Chix patted his friend and trailed circles on her back lightly. He'd heard that it was soothing, and he sincerely hoped Holly thought so and didn't think he was making a move on her as she confessed her love for someone that was dead. That would've been insensitive even by Private Verbil's standards.

"I just- I just keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and there'll be a message on my communicator saying there's been another Fowl emergency," she said, tears springing up involuntarily as her knees gave way and she crumpled on the floor. Chix took his words back- he would take Holly's bitter laughs any day over this teary mess. "It's so difficult! It's like having a thorn in your side for 15 years and having it suddenly removed and you just _miss it so much_."

"Holly," Chix said tentatively. "I think you should head down to Haven and have a good night's rest. You need it. You _deserve_ it."

"I don't deserve any of the misfortune that befalls me, Chix. It just happens," she said stubbornly. "Besides, I want to visit his grave. I do it every year, it's nearby, it just hurt so bad that I thought downing a glass or two might numb the pain." For a second, Chix Verbil almost hated the Mud Boy for doing this to Holly. Yet again, it wasn't really his fault. It was nobody's fault but reality.

She jutted out her bottom lip, pouting. Chix sighed. The things that he does for his friends, really. It's ridiculous, that's what it is. Then again, Holly Short _is_ the saviour of his life. He hoisted her up with a hand and let her lean most of her weight on him, quietly listening to her instructions as she directed him to the graveyard.

Later, the edge of a tombstone is cracked in a flurry of teary shouts and shattered glass. Private Verbil wonders if Artemis Fowl the Second is looking down somewhere and smiling bitterly.

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><p><strong>A word of advice: Just because it'll hurt later, doesn't mean you should let opportunities slip past your fingers. Grasp your happiness when you have the chance to. Time has a funny way of working.<strong>

**& Let me know of spelling and grammar mistakes. Unnecessary flames will be snorted at and extinguished.**


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